The Parted Stream
The Land of Rivers was decorated with vegetation. Tall trees reached towards the heaven, masking their brown bark from the rays of the sun with thick, green leaves that showered them in shade. Wherever there weren’t trees, one could find a small creak, or a stream dripping down a mountain-side. It was truly beautiful. The last time Shichirou had arrived in the Land of Rivers, the trees weren’t as plentiful, the dead bodies of birds littered the earth, and the soil was dry and harsh as a desert. It had seemed that the Land made a recovery within the year, but it was no surprise. Being a shinobi of Amegakure, he had witnessed the fall of the Eight-Legged Council, the declaration of Izaya as leader, his departure, and the reign of another ruler. Both were different nations—Amegakure is technologically advanced—but both had the same issues the other did. Despite decorating their country, and cleaning their rivers, the land of rivers would be forever forced to indure the tyranny of the Great Nations that bordered it. It was disposable to these larger nations that simply wanted to claim it to get to other lands, use it to supply their troops with medicines, have their soldiers rest in inns to recuperate. Amagekure, like the Land of Rivers, had been forced to endure the disease, death, weapons, and insanity that succeeded the initial invasion and battles. During Shichirou’s reign, and by extension Izaya’s reign, Amegakure had become a legitimate nation, and their first order of business had been to expand. However, during the course of their invasion, they had encountered resistance. Konohagakure, the natural enemy to the Rain, decided to expand their borders beyond the rivers well into the Land of Wind to establish a more secure trading route between their allies. Both sides have fought to a stalemate; the commanders were called in for negotiations. A large ravine separated the two armies from one another, yet, despite their separation, each soldier tensely stood alert awaiting an attack from the other. In the front of the army, watching as his brunette hair flapped in the breeze stood the commander of the shinobi forces, Shichirou Chiyo, who had been their reason for success in the area. Though a notable shinobi, approximately Jonin-level, what allowed him to prevail during his battle was his cognition. Unlike most generals, Shichirou is a man of very few talents, and having a grasp of weakness is what allows him to effectively judge a situation for what it is. One of the shinobi spoke, “Sir, I believe that it is time to begin the negotiation.” Shichirou nodded in response. “Send a messenger bird. Tell him that I will meet him in the middle of the ravine within ten minutes. Inform him that it should just be us two; no one else,” he ordered. On one side of the ravine, a man of ordinary stature moved through the forest, specks of powdery residue still evident on the rear side of flack jacket. He was characterized by his fulvous eyes, which remained fixated on the path that lied before him. A hand went over his shoulder and took a hold of the hilt of his tantō; he appeared tense, quite possibly even paranoid, though it was all within good reason. The two sides of the ravine had remained still for the better part of several moments. He had been chosen to be the decoy, the one who would bring an end to the waiting game. Though he may have disagreed with the plan himself, orders from the captain weren't exactly ones he could simply ignore, much less refuse. As he leaped forward, onto the last tree, the man gazed over at the horizon, at the great distance that separated the two sides. He then peered down at the long drop to the bottom, groaning slightly. Oh how unfortunate it was that he had been assigned the role of the snare. Up until now, he had been living a good life, though shinobi such as him didn't live very long at all. He contemplated the idea that his descent into the ravine may as well be the last memorable act of his life. He frowned. Taking a single glance back at the woods behind him, he allowed his footing to falter off the side of the cliff, before his entire being flickered out of comprehension. Within a short period of time, he appeared on the ground floor, his frame having taken cover behind a large boulder in an attempt to mask his presence as much as possible. They had thought that he was entirely crazy; had he been an ordinary shinobi, Shichirou would have called himself crazy as well, but he was well aware of the situation. Amegakure, though powerful, could not hope to fight against the Leaf Ninja. Their forces were better fed, better trained, larger in numbers, and a variety of other factors that would ultimately lead to them success. Even under his leadership, Amegakure didn't stand a chance. His army, if the leaf shinobi chose to attack, would be decimated, but it was the perfect opportunity for him to acquire a leaf shinobi for the Rain to peer into his mind and to integrate their secrets into Amegakure. He reached the bottom of the ravine within a matter of moments after his departure, far from the sight of his own ninja and the enemy shinobi of Konohagakure. Shichirou spotted not a single soul, but his life as a shinobi had revealed to him several times that the absence of evidence was not that the evidence of absence. He knew that Konoha would never waste the opportunity to meet with a seemingly, gullible, commander in an attempt to actually negotiate, or to assassinate him. Pulling a bubble blower from his hip, Shichirou surged his magical energies through it, and with a single gust from his lungs, transformed these energies into an army of clear spiders that scampered across the bottom of the ravine in search for the ninja.